DANCE

Instrumental
Action Bronson - Picasso's Ear 
Prod. Knxwledge 

Mixed By Eli Alexander
Lyrics written By FTHR$EB
Performed By FTHR$EB, CaliThePoet & Eli Alexander

Lyrics:

FTHRSEB’S EAR 

FTHR$EB:
(Mmm mmm mmm)
Who could it be ?
(It’s *beep*) 
In the 89 m3 
Gat in the dash  
With the burgundy plush seats 
(Gun imitations)
Color like a dried scab 
Tints on the windows 
Exterior black like I’m tryna hide from the 50 
Told my mama 
My mind gone 
Make laid back beats 
puffing tree 
Making hits rhyming fuck what the timing on 
type to outshine y’all without no diamonds on 
Yea the type of shit I’m on 

I got clips 
I got bricks 
What the fuck you want ?
(What the fuck you want ?)
I got this 
I got that 
What the fuck you want ?
(What the fuck you want ?)
I got xans 
I got gats 
What the fuck you want ? 
(What the fuck you want ?)
Man what the fuck you want ?
(What the fuck you want ?)

Realest motherfucker
Spin round da block again 
(Boom x5)
Been down bad 
But ain’t ever tapping out again 
(Nah nah nah)
What you know about flipping packs tryna to make a band  
Ain’t come here to play 
Man I came to win 
(Whoop)
Swore to rap and say something significant 
But here I go talking bout hos and rims again 
Here I go chopping beats up and switching shit 
(Nah nah nah x2) 
Like how tf you do that ? 
How you get 1 band ? 
But bring 2 back ?
Got 3 45s 
In that 66 pulled back
Like you ain’t really want no beef with me 
Y’all motherfuckers don’t really want beef with me 
(Laughing)

CaliTHEPoet:
Like aye 
Why the fuck you niggas even try like 
I got bricks, I got xans, I got bitches 
I got 
Like what the fuck you niggas want for real like
Bitch 
Like what the fuck you want Whatchu callin my phone for like ?
(Beep)

FTHRSEBS EAR

Instrumental
Madlib - What A Day
Prod. Madlib 

Mixed By Eli Alexander
Lyrics written By FTHR$EB
Performed By FTHR$EB & Eli Alexander

Lyrics: 
89’ BIMM

(What a day at the park x4)

FTHR$EB:
(M3 Engine Rev)
Whip that 89 bimm 
Used to pray for better days 
Back when I ain’t have shit 
Pistol whip yo ass quick 
For disrespectin the damn clique
Used to dream of those 3 letters 
That’s that B M Dub 
“Why yo man tripping ?”
What he mean ? I’m good 
Just want my team to eat good 
(Burping sound)
By any means 
Grab the strap 
Scratch the serial 
(Scratching sound)
Pass it off like a baton in a relay
Talking shit let that heat spray 
Yea you better duck 
How many times we gotta say 5th  better ? 
(Fuck !)
Swear y’all always bitter 
Throwing mad shade 
But we still outshine all you petty fucks 
Yuh 

(What a day at the park x4)

FTHR$EB:
5th on some different shit 
Ain’t no competition 
Just victory laps on top of records 
Dropping gems  on you motherfucka like my iPhone battery percentage 
Like who murder this track ?
It’s me I did it 
Pass me the shoe I bet I fit it 
Real Gs move in silence like 
(pause)
“Man what the fuck he say ?”
Luxury living 
Draped in designer 
Neck and wrist dripping 
Shopping for a place to pay my mf mortgage at
no co-signer
(Money machine beep)

Ight

(What a day at the park x4)

89 BIMM

Instrumental
Curren$y - Half Moon Mornings 
Prod. The Alchemist 
 
Mixed By Eli Alexander
Lyrics written By FTHR$EB
Performed By FTHR$EB & Eli Alexander

Lyrics: 

MOTUMBO/GIANNIS

FTHR$EB:
Been on that fly shit 
Pushing fly whips 
(Fly whips) 
Since a snotty nose youngin
(Nose youngin) 
Known to be trouble 
(Never never ever ever)
Never known to fumble 
Been balling like mutumbo 
Or giannis
Play mad hos like pianos 
(Play mad hos like pianos)
Let me speak my shit 
Lemme be honest 
(Lemme be honest)
Told my mama sorry 
But Cali weed and green callin
(Weed and green callin)
She callin 
(Cellphone ringing)
That’s why her man pulled heat on me 
(Heat on me)
He’s falling 
Got folded like a lawn chair 
He got went out sad and we ain’t 
(Went out sad) 
even have to go there 
Especially over a ho I ain’t want 
damn 
(I ain’t even want damn)
Glock don’t need a beam or a scope 
(Glock don’t need a beam) 
Whippin that bimm clean 
If you a op in my sight you outta hope 
Got great aim 
Got game I can put y’all on 
(Got game I can put y’all on)
This that beat rhyme crime spree 
(Police siren)
Chop the soul put the sample in the bag 
(Chop the soul put the sample in the bag)
And nobody gon get hurt 
Yea nobody gon get hurt

Eli Alexander:
Are you really that dude ?
I heard yo name was “FTHR$EB”?
What does that mean ?

FTHR$EB: 
That mean no motherfucka sonning me 
Was a youngin when I first started running and ducking the poli-
(Beep)

MOTUMBO/GIANNIS

Instrumental
Westside Gunn - $500 Ounces 
Prod. The Alchemist 

Mixed By Eli Alexander
Lyrics written By FTHR$EB
Performed By FTHR$EB

Lyrics:

M7 

FTHR$EB:
M7 body built like a double r
Riding like a movie star 
(Camera Flashes)
Black exterior 
Brown interior on cappuccino 
hella long packing kilos 
In the trunk 
Been a long time since I gave a solitary fuck 
Like what the fuck you talking bout ?
Rolling with the clan 
We in this bitch we gon walk it out 
You gotta problem ? 
How tf you ‘pose we solve it now ? 
Pistol a revolver now 
Blow off that shit 
burner kinda dusty 
Murder mad beats but kinda rusty
Could get blown back if you run up on me 
That’s on god 
Ask anyone who know me 
Needa thick Filipina bitch 
To help flip the Nina 
Thats real shit 
Kicking right thru ya speaker 
Type to cook a brick
Flip it 
Make them fiends go crazy 
I’m so wavy from the sneaks on my feet 
To the cap on my cranium 
But try me we got clips that sing like cee lo 
Yea we talking buttery smooth 
Known to keep a kilo
Type to keep it low key 
You know the steelo
Riding round in that 760i
Been a minute since I been high 
Rolling down yo block 
Shot the whole hood up 
Since I heard you talking sly 
Bullets sounding like a symphony when I let ‘em fly 
She ain’t want me back when I was broke 
But now I’m making ends 
We talking mad bens 
Mad blue strips 
And y’all motherfuckas wonder why ? 
I can’t trust hoes 
Tryna stick me for paper 
Call these motherfuckas Luke 
Yall my sons like darth Vader 
(I am your father)
Roll off in that all black whip 
Speed off made a right 
Almost crashed it 
Rap mfs tuck every chain when they in my city 
See his shit then I snatch it
Pistol whip him and the damn clique
Fuckin up his damn drift 
Type to do you dirty like some mad dandruff 
Man it’s been a
I swear it’s been a

Instrumental
Jim Jones - Laps Around The Sun 
Prod. Harry Fraud

Mixed By Eli Alexander
Lyrics written By FTHR$EB
Performed By FTHR$EB & Eli Alexander

Lyrics:

84 SEASONS 

Eli Alexander:
Wooo 
Ay ayy 
Y’all niggas thought we was playin wit y’all ?
Man this ain’t a fucking game 
This that beat rhyme crime spree 
You ready ?

FTHR$EB:
Mental locked up for 84 seasons
Bout hit y’all wit bout 80 more reasons 
To hate me 
Aye G like what the fuck you talkin bout 
Rollin off all in that ghost 
Shot yo mama house 
For speaking reckless 
Woke up spent a quarter milli 
On a fucking necklace 
This that luxury rap
Wit my man putting mad adlibs on the track 
Hermes styled verses
With the glasses to match 
(Damnnnn)
Draped in designer 
Now my mama say that she Prada me 
Every verse I write belong inna art gallery 
The whip I push got more horsepower than a cavalry 
Hustle hard because I got some motherfuckin mouths to feed 
Hate it when these punk motherfuckas badmouthing me 
Like I don’t keep a tech squeeze 
Flex the technique 
By any means 
Getting hella green 
By the acre 
Talking shit 
Send you sky high to meet your maker 

Eli Alexander:
Y’all niggas thought we was playing 
wit y’all huh, huh ? 
Didn’t I say we ain’t come to play ? 
Bitch 
I fuckin 
I fuckin told y’all 
This that beat rhyme crime spree

84 SEASONS

Instrumental
Larry June - What Happened To The World
Prod. The Alchemist

Mixed By Eli Alexander
Lyrics written By FTHR$EB & Eli Alexander 
Performed By FTHR$EB, Eli Alexander & Fattah Brazy 

Lyrics

SUNSEEKER 

Eli Alexander:
Dreams & Money 
Where yo money at ? 
Wooo 
Beat Rhyme Crime Spree 
(Beep)

FTHR$EB:
Been around the world 
Real sunseeker shit 
Globe trotter 
Took the rolls to bathe in foreign waters 
Money stacks bout as tall as your oldest daughter 
Beats get slaughtered by the masked hero 
Track record 17-0 
Spent mad euros 
On designer shit 
Met the finest bitch ate her out like a damn gyro 
We a long way from Lancaster
Ca 
Where they talk shit and let the heat spray 
Looking for Louis V by V abloh 
How you say broke in Spanish 
Me no hablo
So Pablo 
Bullets in my clip 
Leave you with wounds bout the size of quarters 
Creeping down the block cut the lights
Gotta drive this slow 
Smoking hella green 
(Coughing, Lighter Flicks)
Thats why my eyes this low 
Seats nubuck 
I shoot shit up 
In my street clothes 
Don’t give 2 fucks 
When you get where I’m at 
Just let me know 

Eli Alexander: 
We ain’t come to play with nobody today 
Fthrseb 
Eli ito 

Everybody wanna be somebody 
That’s the way we live 
Anybody just ain’t everybody 
That’s the way it is 
Can’t seek validation from nobody
That’s real shit 
(Ahhhh)
Gotta think big with 2 cribs
Whole city wanna rap bars 
Bitch I’m one of them 
Wanna penetrate like ol’ dirty bastard 
Bring all of em 
I’m the type to hit real cold 
Never callin em 
They mad as hell all in my voicemail 
I guess I’m dropping em 

Fattah Brazy:
So why you acting like you can’t pick up the phone and shit 
Don’t make have to come to yo mama house and whoop yo ass nigga 
(Laughs)
Put yo ass in the front yard and shit 
Got me looking dumb and shit 
(Laughs) 
I’m just playing 
Bae pick up the phone what’s the deal ? 
What’s the issue ?
Can we fix it ? Can we work it out ? 
Can we fuck it out ? 
I mean either way 
(Laughs)

FTHRSEB

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